Pink
by Vernon Danforth
Summary: Recessive.


"I'm so glad to finally have this opportunity."

Peering at me over a funny shaped glass of chocolate milk. Her head cradled sideways on the tops of her hands, propped up on the table by her elbows. She catches the bendy straw between her lips and sucks the brown liquid through the red and white striped tube. Drains the glass and smacks, licking chocolate droplets from her lips.

"Oh? What opportunity is that?"

"I've been trying to score a date with you forever."

She giggles.  
I sigh.

"This isn't a date."

"Call it what you want, Sonic."

"How about I call it what it is, and say it's not a date?"

Her eyelids halfway draped across her irises, drooping half closed. An unsettling grin plastered across her face. One that indicates she's plotting something. Or maybe she just has it all planned out already.

"Okay" she says, batting her lashes.

The waiter comes by with her meal and asks me if I need anymore coffee. I tell her the pitcher she left is still pretty much full. She smiles and tells me to let her know if we need anything. I like her well enough. She seems nice. Punctual, too, which is rare in a waitress these days. Suddenly notice my eyes following the attractive young rabbit as she meanders on towards another table.

"Sonic!"

"Hm?"

My eyes dart back over to Amy, who's glaring at me with her arms crossed. Jealousy has reared its ugly head. She sighs and closes her eyes.

"Nothing."

Her eyes open and her attention is turned to the food before her. She really does have a short attention span. It's almost midnight and we somehow ended up at a pancake house. She unwraps her utensils and puts the napkin in her lap. She sets the utensils down and picks up the salt shaker. After dousing her scrambled eggs with a fine layer of salt, she mixes it with her fingers and adds more salt..

She starts picking up her eggs, eating it with her fingers.

"You know you have a fork on the table next to you, right?"

"Don't need one" she says, popping another handful of egg into her hand nonchalantly.

"Right"

I start to wonder if the Roses were actually fit to raise Amy. Perhaps a misstep had been made, or two. I can't help but feel bad about it.  
My attention turns to my empty mug. I refill the cup with the dark liquid and add sugar. Stir. Then add cream. Stir again. White mixes with black, clouding and swirling as the white plastic spoon rotates until the coffee is a light brown. Fingers wrap around the warm handle and lift the cup to my mouth. Look up from my coffee to see her eating hash browns covered in ketchup. Also with her fingers. After she finishes, she stares at me while she licks her fingers clean and picks up the syrup. After dousing all three layers of pancake with the thick stuff, she finally picks up her fork and a knife.

"Not finger food, eh?"

"Too sticky."

"You know, if you eat this late too often, you'll get fat?"

"What?"

"Sustenance is meant to be burned off. You go to sleep without burning off that energy, it starts to collect."

"No way" she states overconfidently through a mouthful of soggy pancake.

Can't help but smile and chuckle to myself as she finishes off her food and licks the syrup from the surface of the plate. She's such an obnoxious little girl. She's nothing like her mother. 

* * *

"I had a good time tonight?"

"Oh yeah? That's good. I did, too."

"What do we do now?"

"Go back to the apartment and get some sleep. I fixed up the spare room for you. It isn't much right now, but you'll have plenty of time to decorate it however you want. Make it more homey, or whatever."

God, I suck with these things. Like I know how to deal with people, let alone children. I haven't been to a social event in thirteen years. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

"Sonic?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad it was you. I mean, I could have gotten stuck with anyone, you know? I'm just really glad it was you."

"Hey, don't mention it. Anything I can do to help."

She wraps her hand around my pinky, and holds onto it all the way home. 

* * *

"You're room's down that hall to the left. Kitchen's just over there, in case you get famished. Bathroom's right over there. You can stay up as late as you want. Television's right over there. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Sonic."

"Mhmm"

Make my way over to the kitchen, which is linked to the living room. I hear the Tv power on and the channels cycle as I make my way over to the freezer. Open it. Retrieve a glass bottle of vodka, coated in a thin layer of frost. Set it on the bar and crack it open. Fill a glass halfway up with the cold alcohol. Grab some orange juice and fill the cup almost to the top. Open a drawer and fetch a spoon. Stir. I lose myself in the details so the big picture doesn't hurt as bad. Or maybe I just don't want to face it.

Staring into the circular current swirling around my cup in an irregular pattern. The world around me melting even before the alcoholic beverage is consumed. Remove the spoon and it clinks on the counter. The dent remains. I sip the glass and turn to see Amy. She's leaning against the bar, legs crossed and grinning wide.

"You thirsty?"

She nods.

"Orange juice?"

She doesn't say a word. Just stares at me with that big silly grin, spread across the entire bottom half of her face.

"I'll get you some orange juice."

Turn back and get another glass that looks the same as mine. Set it on the bar and fill it all the way up with orange juice. The orange stream splashing against the side of the cup and bouncing back to the other side as the amount gets taller as I pour.

Hand it to her and pick my own glass up with my left hand and lean against the bar. She does the same, opposite me. I take a drink, and she takes a drink. I set my glass down, she does, too. She's pacing me. Badly, I might add. We pick our glasses up again and drain them. Already buzzing. I set the cup down on the bar, and she walks over and sets hers next to mine. She looks up at me with those big colorful eyes. Cute, I think to myself. She is cute. I'll give her that.

"Are you gonna come watch Tv with me?"

"Sure. Let me pour another drink."

"Pour me one, too!"

She acts just a bit too excited sometimes. Kinda creeps me out.

"Sure thing."

And she skips merrily off to the couch. 

* * *

It's late. Haven't even bothered to check exactly how late it really is. I guess it really doesn't matter. It's not like we have any obligations tomorrow.  
We sit on the couch together watching silly cartoons that she finds wildly amusing. I begin to wonder how I would have felt about this sort of thing at her age. We didn't have any Tv back in Knothole. Would I be laughing just as loud as she, were I in her seat at her age? It all seems so silly.

I catch myself staring at her. Searching her for similarities. Little subtleties that we might share.

Can't seem to find any, excluding our race. It kind of makes me sad.

She notices me looking at her. Try to avert my gaze to the television, but she noticed. I know she did. I feel embarrassed for some reason. Face is hot. I think I drank too much. She stretches and yawns loudly, leaning her head on my conveniently lowered shoulder. I need to work on my posture. I look down at her and she looks up at me, once again. Before I know it, she's closing in on me. We connect. Her lips pressing against mine, her soft tongue trying to squeeze its way through. She catches me off guard, and in more ways than one. I don't know how to react, so instinct takes its course. Grab her by the shoulders and push her away, prying our faces apart. She stares up at me, sporting a confused look. I don't know what to say, I don't even know what to think. I just act.

Stand quickly, knocking over my alcoholic beverage all over the carpet. I seem to have found myself at a loss for words. There's no manual out there that tells you how to handle this type of situation. There was no instruction video that tells you what to do if your kid is attracted to you. I knew this was a bad idea, I knew I couldn't take care of a fucking child, but when her 'parents' died, what the fuck was I supposed to do? I don't know. I was just trying to be nice. Trying to be helpful. Trying to acquire some sort of sense of purpose. Maybe I made the wrong decision. It would seem I'm always making the wrong decision these days. She's still staring at me, bewildered. Her makeup smeared. Her lip starts quivering. Those big, sparkly eyes start to water. Black streaks of salty mascara running down her cheeks. She's crying, and I don't know what the fuck to do.

I just sit down next to her, give her a hug and tell her it's okay. 

* * *

_Here I am. Did I see this coming? Of course not. This is a possibility I never even dreamt of._  
 _A night like this, my thoughts can't help but go back to Sally._

* * *

"I just wanted you to love me" 

* * *

_She was the only thing I really ever cared about._

* * *

"I do love you, Amy. Just... not like that, you understand?" 

* * *

_The princess that made the day worth saving._

* * *

"Why not? Am I ugly?" 

* * *

_Back in the early days, putting up a fight was the furthest thing from our minds. We were worried about surviving. That was our priority. Staying alive._

* * *

"That's not it, Amy." 

* * *

_It was her. It was Sally Acorn. She rallied us together and she gave us hope. She was charismatic and beautiful. Impossible to top, that woman was. I miss her more and more every day._

* * *

"Than what is it?" 

* * *

_I try not to think about the day she departed from her mortal shell. Try not to think about me, holding her hand as she went. She always wanted kids. I never did. It's ironic, in a twisted way that that's how she would meet her end. Giving birth to the daughter she always wanted to hold, but never could._

* * *

"I just can't.. You're like my daughter now, and you're far too young, I... I'm sorry, but I can't." 

* * *

_Take another swig from the warm bottle of harsh vodka while looking up at the stars, reclined in a beach chair that's as old as time. It's cool here out on the patio. Take another hit from the bottle and close my eyes. I'm hit with the worst possible imagery._

* * *

"I'm sorry" she says, wiping the black tears from her face and the snot from her nose, with her white glove. "I feel so stupid."

"Don't feel stupid, okay? It's alright." 

* * *

_Have you ever seen a squirrel give birth to a hedgehog._  
Poor Sally.  
 _Her body simply wasn't built for it._  
Open my eyes.  
 _I gave the child away. I didn't know what to do with it._  
Open my eyes to stars. Try to lose myself in the details.  
 _What would you have done?_  
Up in the sky, I see a shooting star disappear into the abyss.  
 _Who would have thought the daughter I gave away would somehow end back up in my custody?_  
A flashing light among the twinkle of stars.  
 _As much as I resented the child, at least now I can say I'm living the dream for her._  
Take another hit of the vodka and set it down. Close my eyes and try to steer my dreams in a good direction, with thoughts of what seems like a lifetime ago.


End file.
